


in this universe and the next vol.2

by Whymsical



Series: in this universe and the next [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Ambulance Driver America, Background Relationships, Cats, Domestic, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, First Meetings, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Hospitals, Implied Offscreen Death, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Nurse England, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whymsical/pseuds/Whymsical
Summary: My second collection of USUK works, these ones more recent! 2018 and onwards. Again, these will be various AUs, both human and country and everything in between, and I'm not sure how many of these there will be. All works under 6,000 words.





	1. Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> Mermaids for Mermay! Arthur is an angler fish mer who has been cursed to live in a lake when he came across a cursed piece of coral. Alfred found him and keeps him company while trying to figure out a way to break the curse.
> 
> Based on some lovely art by my good friend Triruntu! (https://triruntu.tumblr.com/post/174162414766/i-dont-exactly-go-here-anymore-but-heres-an) She originally came up with the AU years ago but I modified it slightly for my little story.
> 
> I don't usually write in present tense so it might flow a liiitle bit weirdly in a few places, but it was a fun experience! I hope you enjoy it!

“Hello,” Arthur says, and Alfred nearly shits himself.

“Jesus, Arthur, you scared me!” It takes a minute for Alfred to right himself in the bottom of the boat, for his shin and elbow to stop stinging. When he looks over the side, he’s met with a shit-eating, sharp grin.

“I know.”

“You’re mean,” Alfred tells him, pouting. Still, he helps the merman into his boat, careful of all the fins and lures hanging off him. “Do you gotta do that every time?”

Arthur shrugs. “I find it amusing. Your face today was particularly rich.”

“Asshole.”

“Hmm.” Arthur’s hands move to the cooler, where red snapper is waiting for him today. He bites into the fish and hums with approval. “This is better than last time. How’s your research going along?”

“Not much new stuff to report. I’m telling you, us humans just don’t do curses outside of stories. The only common cure is a kiss.”

Arthur’s lip curls. A dribble of blood runs down his chin. “True love’s kiss. I am not a frog. Why the princess ever kissed it, I don’t know.” His voice drops to a mutter. “Kissing frogs, who’d ever want to kiss a stupid frog?”

Alfred just rolls his eyes. He’s not about to be drawn into _that_ argument again. “Well, who’d want to kiss you? You’ve got sharp teeth, no sense of humour, and your hobby is giving people heart attacks.” He thinks he’d very much like to kiss Arthur.

“I only give you heart attacks,” Arthur says defensively. Done with the fish, he tosses its spine overboard.

“I feel so special.” Alfred places a hand across his heart, grinning at the merman’s unimpressed look.

“I’ll bite you next time, I swear,” Arthur threatens.

Alfred has to try very hard not to think about how that would feel. “Maybe there won’t be a next time,” he says instead. “Maybe your true love will waltz into the lake at night, get taken in by your lights, smooch you senseless, and you’ll swim off into the dawn together.”

If anything, Arthur’s face only grows more blasé. “That’s hardly possible, considering you’re the only one who knows about me.” His expression changes, grows more vulnerable. “You are, right?”

The sight of such weakness is rare when it comes to Arthur, and Alfred thinks it looks wrong on him. “I am,” he’s quick to reassure. “I did promise you, and I always keep my promises.”

He reaches for Arthur’s hand, gives it a squeeze. Feels the skin warm up. The mottled flesh never ceases to fascinate him. Arthur’s nails are dark and sharp; he could easily rip through the delicate tendons under Alfred’s skin, but he’s careful as he squeezes back. They don’t let go of each other for a while.

“Will you stay past sunset?”

“Hell yeah!” Alfred grins and traces the darker blue lines running along Arthur’s fingers. “I love seeing you glow.”

Arthur looks away. “You’re really not supposed to find it pretty. It’s how I kill.” His cheeks are pinked, so he stares hard at the mouth of the river while he speaks. Luckily, from the feel of the fingertips running across his skin, Alfred is still focused on the blue.

“You’re not gonna kill me, so it’s fine,” Alfred says. “Plus, I love blue.”

 _You seem to love a lot of things to do with me._ Arthur bites the words back. If he allowed them to slip free, Alfred would startle and leave. He murders them instead, and pulls his arm back to his side. “I would have if we met out there.”

Alfred ignores the words. “I bought more data, so we can watch more videos if you want. The internet still has a lot more cat videos to offer.”

“I wish you’d bring yours here,” Arthur tells him, and leans against his side.

The American pulls a blanket from under his seat, trying not to gag at the smell, and dunks it into the lake. It’s soon smoothed over Arthur’s tail. “They hate water, sorry Art. You’ll see them when you get free though, I promise!”

Arthur bites back more words, strangles them near his heart. He’s accepted he’s not leaving the lake. Alfred makes it better, though. Alfred makes everything he touches better. “Show me the cuttlefish video,” he demands.

“The True Facts one?” Alfred laughs. “Sure. Pretty soon half the views on it will be from you.”

“I like it.” Arthur pokes his wrist. Hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to break the skin. Alfred scraped his knee once while trying to get out of the boat. Arthur finds it hard to control himself at the sight of his blood.

“I know, I know.” Alfred just chuckles more. He wraps his arms comfortably around Arthur’s waist, mindful of the way his dorsal fin is folded between them.

They watch video after video in the calm, the silence between them only broken when one of them laughs. Cat videos, vine compilations, even soap-making demonstrations, Alfred shows them all. Arthur watches with rapt attention. Occasionally, he’ll ask for something specific – ‘Another True Facts, please.’; ‘I want to watch the animal vines next.’; ‘Show me the lily pad pond soap!’ – but more often than not he’s simply looking at the screen with wide eyes. As the sun dips lower, so does Alfred’s head, until his chin is perched on Arthur’s shoulder and he’s laughing into the merman’s ear. The moment Arthur notices and turns to him, eyebrows rising, Alfred smiles and quickly pulls away. His chin and cheek tingle.

The sky bleeds pink and purple when Arthur swats at the phone, almost sending it into the water. “Swim with me,” he says.

In his scramble after the device, Alfred ends up with his face in Arthur’s armpit, arms tight around his friend’s waist. He’s hanging onto his phone with the tips of his fingers. “Careful with that.” It’s not the first time he’s had to say that, and it definitely won’t be the last.

He disentangles himself and stows his phone back into a Ziploc bag. Arthur’s already halfway out of the boat so he gives him a shove, sending him into the water with a splash and a yelp. Oh he’s going to pay for that, but he has no regrets. Predictably, Arthur launches out of the lake and spits water in his face as he soars over the boat, but Alfred’s laughing the whole time and even claps at the display. While Arthur vanishes for a few minutes, Alfred takes the time to strip to his underwear. The merman is waiting for him by the time he’s balancing on the side.

They dive down into the water together. It’s really less of a dive and more of a flop for Alfred, but soon they’re both underwater. Arthur’s bioluminescence is really noticeable when they’re beneath the surface of the lake. The stripes along his body as well as his frills and lures glow a brilliant blue. They contrast well with his eyes.

Arthur grabs hold of Alfred’s hand and tugs him down five feet, then ten. Deep enough that the merman can move freely. Shallow enough that Alfred can kick to the surface whenever he needs air. Alfred is a good swimmer, but even so he can only hold his breath for less than two minutes. They’ve somehow worked around this limitation.

Alfred can’t tear his gaze away from the sight before him. He thinks he would have died long ago, out in the open ocean. Arthur is mesmerising even without the bioluminescence, but with the bright blue trails in the water it’s enough to make Alfred’s mouth dry. He kicks his legs and swims toward the surface, Arthur guiding him along with lazy sweeps of his tail.

“That seemed longer than usual,” Arthur comments when they can both speak.

“Yeah. I’m getting better.” Alfred’s still wheezing a bit. He grips onto the boat for stability.

“I’ll be waiting.” Arthur gives him a sharp smile and ducks under the water.

All Alfred can think about is how fucked he is.

He peers below and can make out flashes of blue as Arthur weaves through the water. Darkness encroaches around him on all sides, and Alfred has to try very hard to not think about anything else that might be in the lake. Arthur’s assured him that he’s the top predator in this little ecosystem, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that in the dark. Alfred focuses instead on the blue, the beautiful blue. He’s sad because he’ll never act, wouldn’t do that to Arthur because what if he’s not the one? And then it will be awkward and Alfred really doesn’t want Arthur to be alone here again. When it comes down to it, Alfred F. Jones is a coward.

The blue comes closer and Arthur tugs on his ankle.

“Coming,” Alfred says, even though Arthur can’t hear, because the word stops his thoughts in their tracks.

He ducks below again, and doesn’t resist as Arthur drags him down despite the jump in his belly. The merman twists around him, brushing up against him more often than not. Alfred holds in his shivers as the delicate frills and lures tickle against his skin. He grabs Arthur’s hand in his own and lets Arthur tug him around. This is Arthur’s quiet happiness, a relaxed companionship that only Alfred can give him. His own heart aches as he thinks how small the lake is compared to the ocean. His shoulder is yanked a bit as Arthur speeds towards the surface. He breaks it alone, and this time only takes a few seconds to catch his breath before sinking again.

He’s closer to Arthur this time, his hands on those mottled, slender shoulders. Alfred doesn’t think anymore. One hand moves upwards, caresses Arthur’s neck and cheek before toying with the lure on his head. It’s a thin bulb, bright blue like all the rest, and Alfred’s eyes watch it sway with the current. He smiles a bit.

Then Arthur’s leaning in, eyes slack and hyperfocused at the same time. As if _he_ was the one awestruck by Alfred, the measly human.

Arthur’s eyes slip shut and before Alfred can move a muscle, they’re kissing. It’s wet, of course, and Arthur’s lips are cold, but it’s not a bad kiss.

Alfred gasps into it, releasing precious air.

Green eyes open in a flash, and Arthur jerks back. His lips tremble and his face contorts into hesitance and embarrassment before he dives down deep, where Alfred can’t follow.

Alfred’s own face screws up. He peers down into the darkness for as long as he can before his lungs start burning and he kicks upwards. Arthur has gone so far down he’s not visible anymore, and Alfred sighs as he clings onto the boat. That was one question answered. Now they just needed to talk about it.

He stays there like that for ten minutes, hoping to catch glimpse of blue or feel Arthur’s hand around his ankle. It wasn’t like he’d shoved Arthur away… Any longer, and he would have been kissing back just as much. After a few more minutes, Alfred sighs again and heaves himself into the boat. His legs knock against the cooler and he curses, then freezes with an idea.

If Arthur won’t come out on his own, then Alfred will just have to lure him out.

Moving quickly but carefully so as to not destabilize the boat, Alfred reaches into the cooler and grabs a wriggling fish. He also grabs a knife, and slits the creature’s throat before tossing it overboard. The knife tip trembles as he peers into the water after the fish has sunk out of sight.

There! A flash of blue, gone as quickly as it had come.

At least Arthur’s tempted by it.

He empties out the rest of the cooler into the lake, one fish at a time. The flash of blue appears after he’s dropped each snapper, but Arthur doesn’t rise. Alfred worries his lip between his teeth after the last fish is gone. He tosses the knife aside, stilling again when he hears it clink against his glasses. Each time he’s dropped one of his possessions down, Arthur has retrieved it… He grabs the glasses without hesitation and chucks them over.

Two minutes pass. Then five. Then eight.

Alfred’s losing hope when he sees a surge of blue heading towards the surface. He smiles and leans back, preparing himself.

A hand latches onto the side of the boat, and Arthur’s head lure is barely visible as the merman reaches in to deposit the glasses on the boat seat. Alfred has a split second to act, but somehow he manages to grab onto Arthur’s wrist.

Arthur startles and shoots down, hauling Alfred along with him. Alfred yelps as his hip is slammed into the side and he barely has enough time to take a breath before he’s underwater, but he clings on. Arthur bares his teeth and continues diving, waits for Alfred to give up and let go and return to the surface. Alfred, rising to the challenge, only tightens his grip.

It’s after about a minute of this that Arthur realizes how deep they are. How far the surface is. How long Alfred can hold his breath for. His expression morphs to one of worry and he loops around so their faces are close together. Alfred’s cheeks are puffed out, occasional air bubbles escaping his lips. His eyes, screwed shut on the way down, open again and he grins when he sees that they’ve stopped moving. He reaches with his free hand to Arthur’s cheek, caresses it. Arthur feels his heart stutter and can’t help but to lean in. His tail lightly wraps around Alfred’s shin.

Then, Alfred’s face shifts. His smile falls away and his throat works desperately, uselessly. He tries to kick his legs but Arthur is heavy with muscle and he can’t hope to tug him that impossible distance.

“Arthur,” he begs, but it’s a garbled mess and his lungs burn even more as a few drops of water slip down his windpipe.

“No, no!” Arthur yells, the sound echoing in the water. He wraps his arms around Alfred’s waist and races for the surface. His chest tightens when he feels Alfred go limp in his arms, and he pumps his tail faster.

They break the surface together, shoot out of the water, and Arthur uses this to his advantage as he angles them towards the boat, with him on the bottom. The crack of his arms against the wood is worth it if Alfred survives. The human is still for a few seconds. Then, his heaving breaths shatter the air. He curls up on top of Arthur, coughing violently until the water is out of his lungs.

“A-Art?” he wheezes, his hands scrabbling for purchase. He finds Arthur’s arm and holds on tight.

“You’re here, you’re safe.” Tears are dripping down his face for the first time in many years, but Arthur doesn’t care. “You’re safe,” he repeats, and can’t say more because Alfred’s kissing him again.

This kiss is wilder, more desperate. Arthur’s breathing hitches and he’s pretty sure Alfred is sobbing, but their grip on each other is tight and sure. They pull apart once, twice for more air, but before long their lips meet again. It’s ten minutes before they take a longer break.

Alfred breathes in deep and uses the moment to stop trembling. He rests his cheek against Arthur’s chest and closes his eyes when Arthur starts carding through his damp hair. He only tightens his grip on the merman in response.

“Why did you do that?” Arthur asks quietly. A few of his frills are bent at odd angles and hurt, but he doesn’t want to move. Not yet. “Stupid human…”

“If I’d let you go, I knew I wouldn’t see you for a long while.” Alfred’s voice is still raspy, still weak. But there.

“You can’t breathe underwater,” Arthur says, quite uselessly.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me die.”

“You have far too much faith in me. I am not some pretty, dopey, red-haired Princess. I’m a predator.”

“Still cute,” is all Alfred says.

Arthur’s jaw clicks shut. He frowns. “You shouldn’t like me. I am not very likable.”

“No, you’re not.” Alfred laughs as the hand in his hair freezes. “You’re grouchy and mean and I really think my heart’s gonna give out one day because of you.” He tilts his head up and grins brilliantly at the look on Arthur’s face. “But you’re nice to me and I think you’re funny and I wanna find out everything about you.”

Arthur’s cheeks pink and he has to look away. “Because I’m an oddity.”

“Because you’re an interesting person, Art.”

“I see.” He can’t help the smile from coming to his face.

“…And I also think I have a thing for really sharp teeth.”

“Alfred!” Arthur squeaks and tries to shove him away, but his grip is too tight. “I- I’ll bite you!” He purses his lips as he realizes his mistake.

Alfred only smirks. “Oh, will you, now?”

Arthur covers his face with his hands. “Why do I like you?”

“Hmm, why do you?” Alfred peppers Arthur’s knuckles with kisses, though his face is serious again, almost hesitant.

“You never treated me any different,” Arthur murmurs, reaching a hand for Alfred’s cheek. “Even though you fainted the first time you saw me.” He pinches the skin beneath his fingers, and bites back another smile at Alfred’s chuckles. “You’re nice to me too, and you always come back.” He can listen to Alfred talk forever, can talk _with_ him forever, though he doesn’t say that. Alfred’s ego is big enough already.

“Love you, Art…” Alfred mumbles, nosing into the hand and pressing a few more kisses to Arthur’s palm.

Arthur feels his heart stop, reboot. He coughs. “I love you too, you stupid human.”

“Stubborn fish.”

“I take it back, you’re not nice at all.”

“Wh- Hey!” Alfred laughs even more. “You’re the one who started it! But you’re _my_ stubborn fish, that’s what’s important.”

“Oh, is it.” Arthur can’t help a few chuckles from escaping. Unable to meet Alfred’s gaze for too long, he looks out at the lake and jolts. “Alfred.”

“Hmm?”

“I… I can go home now.” Arthur feels his eyes well up again. “Alfred, I can go back to the sea, I can go home!” When he looks to Alfred again, he’s smiling more brightly than ever.

“Oh!” Alfred’s eyes widen, and his lips stretch into a matching smile. “That’s awesome!” Arthur can go back…to the open ocean. To the depths of some trench, where he’s happy and comfortable. His expression crumbles at the edges.

Arthur notices. It clicks in his mind. “You stupid, stupid human,” he coos, holding Alfred closer. “I’m not going to leave you, not after this. I meant I can leave this lake, get my most treasured possessions before coming back to you.”

Alfred shoves his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Arthur suspects he’s one of the very few beings on the planet to witness Alfred’s insecurities. He treasures them, and does what he can to smooth them away. “Shall we…try it again?”

Alfred grows serious again as he clambers off of Arthur’s body. He helps the merman shuffle into a more comfortable position, and as he does so, his hand brushes against a particular torn frill. The first time he tried getting Arthur out of this lake on his boat.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Arthur murmurs, placing a hand over Alfred’s.

“I know.” Alfred doesn’t think he’ll ever get the sound of Arthur’s scream out of his mind, the pure agony as his fin started to disintegrate. “I’m nervous.”

Arthur takes in a deep breath. “You love me, and I love you. The curse should be lifted.” If he ever finds the creature who hexed that stupid piece of coral, there will be hell to pay.

“Okay. I love you, Art, I really do,” Alfred says once more, just to be sure. “Tell me the moment you’re in pain, okay?”

“I will. I’m not that much of a masochist.”

Alfred covers Arthur in the damp blanket once again before picking up the oars. They’re out near the middle of the lake, so it takes them a good ten minutes of rowing before they reach the mouth of the river connecting the smaller body of water to the ocean. He slows the boat as they reach that border, and keeps his eyes on Arthur the whole time. The merman is tapping a clawed finger against the side of the boat with boredom, but there are lines of tension running through his whole body. They both stiffen as the boat transitions from lake to river, and then Alfred is throwing himself into Arthur’s arms.

“You’re free!”

Arthur laughs and pulls him close. “I’m free,” he says, then proceeds to kiss Alfred senseless.

Somehow the boat manages to keep floating in a straight line.

“It’s like twenty minutes at this pace,” Alfred says a few minutes later, when they’re simply curled together at the back of the small space. “But we don’t have to hurry, right?”

“Right,” Arthur agrees. He’s happy to snuggle into Alfred’s shoulder.

“Hey, so uhh…”

Arthur does not like that tone. “What?”

“You’re an angler fish, right? Like the fish part?”

“Yes.” Arthur squints at him. “We’ve been over this.”

Alfred licks his lips before grinning brightly. “So when we have sex, will I fuse to you, becoming just a pair of extra balls in your side?”

Arthur bites him.


	2. E.R.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are rumours, you know," Alfred whispered into Arthur's ear. "That the Head Nurse likes the new driver."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this little finished fic in my writing folder while clearing it out, and after some dusting off I think it's quite alright!
> 
> Feedback is, as usual, much appreciated! ^-^

The volunteer E.R. ambulance driver really was hot. Twenty-four, American, with blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an extremely well-built form. Arthur had been taken with him since the moment he saw the man nearly four years ago. But he was only around from May to the end of August, so the English nurse figured he was in school and volunteered whenever summertime rolled around. Arthur didn't see him too often as he usually stayed in the ambulance, but it made his day a little brighter whenever he caught glimpse of him.

"Oi, Arthur, your little lovebird's got a shift tonight." Gilbert, another nurse, chuckled as he passed. "Do ya even know his name?"

Arthur huffed. "That's not- what?" He frowned. "It's October."

"Yeah!" Gilbert's strange laughter was heard all the way down the hall. "He's here full time now, maybe you'll have more of a chance!"

"Piss off!" Arthur called after him, though his thoughts were racing with the glimmers of possibilities. He glanced at the clock periodically throughout the day, and finally in the evening smiled. The next shift was about to start, so perhaps he was still in the drivers' office. It wouldn't hurt to walk past, surely…

As he was rounding the corner he crashed into someone, and being the smaller and lighter person, he ended up on the floor. Rubbing his head and blinking, he looked up and froze.

"Hey dude, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

And who was leaning over him, concerned, other than the very person he’d been hoping to see? Arthur took the hand proffered to him and scrambled up, looking quite firmly at the handsome driver's shoulder. "I'm all right, it was my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going-"

"No problem." The man shook his hand enthusiastically before Arthur could let go. "Hey, I've seen you around before! You're Arthur Kirkland, head nurse for the E.R., right?"

"Y-Yes, I am." Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded. His name was known?! And oh, how lovely it sounded, falling from the American's lips. He wondered how it would feel breathed against his skin- "And you are…?"

"Oh, right! Sorry. I'm Alfred F. Jones! Just got hired full time like two weeks ago." Alfred grinned.

"A pleasure to meet you." Oh it was _much_ more than a pleasure.

"You too!" Alfred let go of his hand and glanced at his watch. "Uhh, I should probably get going out to the ambulance, check if everything's okay, y'know?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I'll see you around then, Mr. Jones?"

"Call me Alfred. And sure, see ya!" Flashing him another smile, Alfred continued down the hallway.

There was a small, warm smile on Arthur's face for the rest of the day, something that didn't go unnoticed by Gilbert. The albino teased him mercilessly about it at first but soon stopped after Arthur increased his workload. The Englishman did indeed catch glimpses of Alfred during the way when someone new was brought in. They didn't have long, perhaps a few seconds at most, but Alfred waved every time and Arthur smiled back.

 

"You've gotten simultaneously more easy and also a bigger stick up your ass," Gilbert complained to him one day a few weeks later, sprawling over the front desk. The clock showed half twelve in the morning, and all was quiet. Well, at least it had been until a few moments ago.

"How so?" Arthur turned away from the book he was reading to face him. He always took his shifts with Gilbert so he could keep an eye on the man.

"Alfred," Gilbert stated flatly. "How long you gonna keep dancing around him?"

"Shut up," Arthur immediately snapped back.

"See? There's that massive stick!" Gilbert suddenly smirked. "Though maybe you're just getting ready for some nice hot American di-"

" _Piss off, Beilschmidt!_ "

Gilbert snickered more but went back to his computer screen. Arthur was sure it wasn't even remotely work-related, but he didn't comment. The room returned to blissful silence for a few minutes, before it was inevitably shattered once more. This time it was by the very object of Arthur's affections.

"Hello there, my cousin-"

"Artie!" Alfred cut across the other person who was speaking.

Arthur glanced up, shocked to see two Alfreds. Then he looked closer and saw one of the figures was not Alfred at all, just someone similar in appearance. He focused on the actual Alfred, who was bleeding quite heavily from the arm. "What the hell happened to you?"

"One of Mattie's rabbits got out so I had to chase it and I might have gotten a bit impaled on a chainlink fence. But I got the rabbit!" Alfred looked incredibly proud of the fact. "And this is Mattie!" He pushed the other man forwards.

"Ar-"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Awesome," Gilbert interrupted, shoving Arthur to the side to hold out his hand for a handshake.

"Matthew Williams," Matthew replied, shaking it with a small smile. "I'd like to sign my idiotic cousin in."

"Oi! You call me idiotic now, but who was beggin' me to get your bun?" Alfred protested, pouting and wincing slightly as he pressed the towel more firmly against his arm.

"Right. Gilbert, you stay with Mr. Williams and complete the process while I take Mr. Jones to get treated." Arthur turned to Matthew. "I'm Arthur Kirkland, Head Nurse, and I assure you he'll get the very best care here."

Matthew suddenly smiled more. "Oh I'm sure he will." He chuckled when Alfred jabbed him and then turned back to Gilbert. "So can you help me with this process?"

Arthur meanwhile touched Alfred's sleeve and guided him to a quiet room. "Get settled on the bed, please."

"Will do, Nurse." Alfred grinned and hopped onto the bed.

Muttering softly under his breath, Arthur quickly took all of his vital signs and disinfected the bloody area before lightly pressing a fresh towel against it. "You'll most likely need stitches for that, so I'll get the doctor now. You'll be fine with him." He turned to leave, but paused when Alfred suddenly latched onto his arm. "Alfred-"

"Stay with me. Please," Alfred said, eyes wide. "Stitches mean anaesthetic and anaesthetic means n-needles, right?"

"Yes… Are you afraid of needles?"

Alfred nodded.

"All right then. I'll stay. But let me get the doctor, hmm?" Arthur gently pried Alfred's fingers off his wrist, though he was loath to do so.

"Okay."

"I'll be right back, Alfred, all right?" At the American's nod, Arthur returned one and left the room. He was smiling slightly; he was treating Alfred and _Alfred_ wanted _him_ to stay.

Along the way Gilbert came up to him and gave him Alfred's papers, the entire time going off about Matthew this and Matthew that. Arthur didn't really pay attention too much, though he did store the information away for future blackmail. Finally the albino wandered off back to Matthew and Arthur continued to the doctor's office. He was back with Alfred less than three minutes later.

"He'll be right with you."

Nodding, Alfred gestured him closer. "Okay. That's okay," he muttered, grasping at Arthur's arm the moment it came into reach. "Sit."

Arthur settled down next to him and watched him from the corner of his eye. He could practically feel every nerve in his arm tingling, especially in the spot Alfred was touching. He watched the American for a few moments before he realized he should probably be comforting. "You'll be fine, Alfred."

"I- I know." Alfred gazed back at him, fingers twitching. "It's just still- the sight of it makes me queasy."

"I understand." Arthur glanced to the door as the doctor entered before patting Alfred's knee. "You don't even have to look."

The doctor seemed surprised that Arthur was there, but allowed him to stay. He checked on the cut and then took out the anaesthetic. Alfred flinched, but Arthur offered him his shoulder and he eagerly agreed. Then, nose buried against Arthur's neck, he endured the stitching. The little tugging sensations felt strange, but thanks to the anaesthetic it didn't hurt at all.

When he was finished, the doctor praised Alfred for sitting still like he would a child, but Alfred seemed much happier so Arthur did as well. Then it was time for Alfred to go home, and Arthur found he really didn't want him gone.

"You feel all right?" Arthur asked, stalling for time a little bit.

"Yeah. Hurts a little bit, but that's just cuz the anaesthetic's wearing off." Alfred gave him a grin. "Thanks for stayin' with me."

"It's no problem. Will you be in tomorrow?"

Alfred shook his head. "Nah. I'm gonna stay at home and rest a bit." He saw Arthur's almost imperceptible disappointment and grinned. "Why, will ya miss me?"

"Wh- No-"

"It's okay." Alfred cut across his sputters by hugging him. "There are rumours, you know," he whispered into Arthur's ear. "That the Head Nurse likes the new driver."

"Gilbert, I swear I’ll flay him-" Arthur had turned fully red by this point. He buried his face more in Alfred's neck, though only because it was the most convenient place. Of course.

"Heh. Well that particular driver finds the Head Nurse real cute too." Alfred lightly stroked his back. "Why don't you swing by tomorrow? Or uhh, I guess later today. We can watch a movie or somethin'."

Arthur pulled away and looked at him skeptically for a moment before nodding, his expression softening. "If you'd like."

"I would." Alfred leaned in and kissed his cheek. "So come by just whenever you get off, kay? I'll be in all day."

Arthur’s cheeks flushed. "I'm actually not working later today at all. Once this shift is over I'll be going home until the next day," he explained. "So I'll be able to come 'round in the late afternoon after I've slept for a bit."

"Sounds good!" Alfred glanced past him into the waiting room. "Though you might not be he only one comin' by." he snickered.

"What, Gilbert?" Arthur followed his gaze to see Gilbert hitting on Matthew in a painfully obvious manner. At least Matthew seemed not to mind it. An arm settled across his shoulders and he looked back to Alfred. "Yes?"

"Nothin'." Alfred gave him a squeeze. "We should be gettin' out there..."

"I suppose so." Arthur slipped out from under his arm and stepped into the room. "You should keep that clean- and perhaps stay away from that rabbit for a few days?"

Alfred followed him, albeit reluctantly. "If ya say so, Nurse!"

Matthew and Gilbert broke off from their conversation to face then, the blond with reddened cheeks. Gilbert smirked. "Lovebirds number two have returned."

Arthur smacked him. "Shut it, Beilschmidt." He turned to Matthew. "He's all done. If there's any pain then some simple painkillers will do."

"Thank you." Matthew handed Alfred his coat.

"It's no problem. I'll see you later, Alfred?"

"Yeah!" Alfred gave him a grin and wave. With a nod at Gilbert he grabbed Matthew and pulled him out of the hospital.

Arthur watched him leave fondly, a smile coming to his face when he saw Alfred pat the ambulance he drove. When they were out of sight he settled back at his desk. He felt Gilbert's gaze on him and shook it off, but a few minutes later it was still there. "What do you want?" he asked, looking up to meet Gilbert's smirk.

"Loosened up enough to land a date? If you're lucky you'll land in bed-"

"Oh shove off, Beilschmidt!"


	3. The Shopping Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alfred, no.”  
> “Alfred yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was inspired by pool floats I saw in Primark and I just had to get this down.
> 
> Apologies if the end seems a bit rushed or if there are any clunky sentences/phrases.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated! ^-^
> 
> Also, coincidentally, happy birthday Alfred, you dork.

“Alfred, no.”

“Alfred yes!”

“Alfred. No.”

“But Aaaaartie!”

Arthur will not look at the eyes. Arthur will not look at the eyes. Arthur will _not_ \- He looks at the eyes. “You know my pool is for laps, not splashing around,” is all he can manage.

The eyes only get bigger as Alfred wraps his arms around the box. “That doesn’t matter! It’s still a pool!”

“Yes, but-”

“And it’s right here! Right in our path! It’s gotta be destiny or something!”

Arthur sighs through his nose and curses the layout of the store. Of course the giant pool floats are along the wall where the checkout queue runs. “Really, now.”

“Yeah!”

Unable to think of a reply for the moment, Arthur simply turns away as Alfred goes rooting around through the display. His eyes skim over various face masks, hair bands, and other bits and bobs. The line moves and he takes a step forward, but he’s unfortunately still in reach of the floats.

Alfred crows behind him, though when he turns around, the taller man is hiding the box behind his back. There’s a smirk on his face. Arthur suddenly feels like he’s aged a hundred years. “What did you find now?”

Alfred’s smile stretches wider. “I think you’ll like it.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Wanna bet?”

Arthur purses his lips. “No. Now come on, show me.”

Alfred fumbles the box into view, then presents it with as much flair as he can muster when they’re in a crowded queue. A white, blue, and pink pegacorn float looks out from the cardboard with a cutesy grin. There’s a little girl on the float’s back, her smile bright as the sun.

“Oh my god,” Arthur says quietly.

“Eh? Eh? You’re totally hooked, right?” Alfred wiggles the box around. “You totally love it and want to take it home with you, right?”

“I- I didn’t say that.” Arthur pulls his gaze away. It snaps right back within seconds.

“But you’re thinking it!” Alfred’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he dumps the pegacorn into their mesh shopping bag and picks up the burger again. “So it’s settled. You get the unicorn, and I’ve got-”

“Now hang on a moment. I didn’t agree to one of the things, let alone two.”

“But c’mooon! They’re perfect for us!”

“They also cost ten quid each. That’s nothing to scoff at.” The line creeps forward again. A few more steps and they’ll be out of range. Arthur wills the cashiers to hurry.

“I’ll pay you back for mine, then.”

“Alfred,” Arthur says, his voice low, and Alfred freezes where he’s trying to shove the burger in. “Do we really need them?”

“I really, really want-”

“But do we _need_ them?”

Alfred’s cheeks puff out. His brows furrow as he thinks, and after a few seconds he resumes forcing the box in. “Yeah, we do.”

Arthur blinks. “How do you figure that?”

“Well.” With a final shove, the box wedges between the pegacorn box and the mesh of the bag. “It’s been hot as ba-” Alfred stops as Arthur’s elbow drives into his ribs, then follows the Brit’s nod towards the children in the queue behind them. “-ts, hot as bats for the past like, three weeks here and it gets boring just doing laps around your pool or just sitting there, so these babies will guarantee us having an awesome time in your pool instead!”

“Oh they’ll _guarantee_ it, will they?” Arthur allows a small smirk to come to his face. “Is that a personal guarantee?”

Alfred opens his mouth, but nothing escapes it. After a moment, he shuts it again and nods.

“And what will happen if I’m not one hundred percent satisfied by the results? After all, we don’t have time for me to ‘just walk around the store with it and then we’ll maybe get it if you want to when we reach the registers’.” Arthur allows himself to be a little mean; his wallet still hasn’t recovered from the Switch. He can tell Alfred knows exactly what he’s talking about by the way those blue eyes narrow.

“If you don’t like them, we’ll return ‘em.”

“Hmm, that means another trip into town…” He tilts his head up and glances at Alfred from the corner of his eye, the epitome of coyness.

Alfred smacks his shoulder. “Stop that, you jerk. We’ll return them… _and_ I’ll take you to Greyfriars for Afternoon Tea. All the stops, proper dress, the whole shebang.”

“How romantic.” Arthur wets his lips. “A tempting offer for two pool floats.”

“Sweetheart,” Alfred murmurs, leaning in to whisper into Arthur’s ear. “I _really_ want those floats.” The line moves again, taking the pair out of reach. “And would you look at that, I can’t put ‘em back anymore.”

It’s Arthur’s turn to jab at him again. “Devil,” he chides, but his tone is too fond for it to be a true reprimand. He looks down at the burger float again and his brows furrow. “I thought it looked strange.”

“What looks strange?” Alfred blinks and is back to his innocent ray of sunshine self.

“The ‘burger’ looks more like a bagel, it’s got a great big bloody hole in the middle of it.”

Alfred snickers. “Well yeah, it’s gotta be ring-shaped for someone to fit inside.”

“That’s not a burger then, is it?”

“Hey, don’t knock bagel burgers. The ones they did at McDonald’s in April were good.”

“Might as well make it a donut,” Arthur mutters, huffing and looking away from the box.

“Got one of those in the California house.”

“Of course you do.”

“We got a deal though?”

Arthur peeks up at him and gives a short nod. It’s all worth it in that second when he sees the grin Alfred sends him in return.

The line moves quickly for them after that. Nothing else catches Alfred’s eye, and the people in front of them only seem to have minimal items to check out. By the time they do reach the cashier, Arthur’s almost forgotten that the purpose of the trip was to buy socks, and he stares dumbly at the packages as they’re transferred to paper bags. Alfred’s happy to make small talk with the teen serving them, so Arthur has the moment to collect himself before he has to tap his card.

Then they’re out into the god-awful sun, still scorching despite it being well past noon. “I hate this,” Arthur grumbles. He can feel his skin prickling uncomfortably at his neck and arms where his sunscreen has been sweated off.

“Poor Artie,” Alfred coos into his ear before whipping out a hat from his backpack. “You’re lucky I came prepared. Food and then home, or just home?”

“Home, please.” Arthur marches off resolutely in the direction of the bus stops. “We can have takeaway tonight.”

“Hell yeah!” Alfred waits until they’re sat on the bus stop benches to speak again. “I’m guessing we’ll test out the floats tomorrow, then?”

“Mhm.” Arthur nods and closes his eyes, allowing himself to lean into Alfred’s shoulders. They’ve been walking around town centre all day, and he’s starting to feel sluggish under the burning heat.

“You okay?” Alfred’s voice is soft, serious.

“Just tired. Let me know when the bus comes?” Arthur’s lips turn up as he feels the barest of kisses to his head.

“Sure. When we get in you can have a cold shower and I’ll pour you some of the iced tea we brewed yesterday and we can do whatever you want, okay?”

“Alright. Skyrim?”

Alfred laughs. “I figured you’d say that. We’re close to finishing the Miraak quest so we’ll do that and then screw around.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Alfred’s content to let him rest while they wait for the bus to appear, one hand carding slowly through sandy hair.

 

The sun is bright against the cloudless sky even at seven the next morning. Arthur takes one look at it and groans. He shuts off his alarm and curls back into Alfred’s side.

“The world must be ending,” Alfred mumbles to him.

“What?”

“You’re actually sleeping in.”

Arthur brushes a hand against Alfred’s bare side. “Shut it.”

Alfred snorts and wriggles away. “Okay, okay, please! Don’t make me wake up too much.”

“Get back to sleep then. And come back here.” Arthur holds out an arm, content when Alfred presses against him.

The Brit sends another stink eye skyward when they do get up closer to noon, but unfortunately he can’t will the rains down. He would have done it two weeks ago if he could have. Alfred makes breakfast though, which does lift his brows from their furrow.

In the end it’s past one when they’re both in their swimming trunks at the edge of Arthur’s lap pool. Alfred has slathered sunscreen over every part of Arthur’s body that the sun could possibly reach. There’s none on him; he tans beautifully instead of going part lobster if he happens look at the sun wrong.

Arthur stretches and rolls out his shoulders as he steps up to the edge. “The usual?”

“Sure.” Alfred sighs happily as his spine pops. “Loser has to blow up both floats.”

“Deal.”

“Go!” Arthur says, and in that second dives.

“You little-!” Alfred’s in the water an instant later, his muscles flexing and straining as he works to close the gap.

They’re dead even matched. While Alfred does have the muscles to power through the water and physique to keep going for an extended period of time, Arthur has speed. His body is more wiry and streamlined in the water, but he always tires after the sixteenth lap and has to rely on tight turns stay on track with Alfred.

It’s no different today. Arthur’s off like a minnow at the start, and he keeps a sizeable lead for three laps before Alfred’s power becomes apparent and they cut through the water neck and neck. He’s able to pick up a small lead again with each sharp turn he does, but Alfred’s power is unstoppable and the lead never lasts long. At the start of the seventeenth lap he feels his shoulders protesting but pushes through it, tucking his body in even tighter at each turn for that extra bit of space.

He pushes off from the final turn and strains forward. Alfred’s just behind him at the turn, and for a moment the Brit allows his eyes to sweep over the water-dappled skin. Then he faces ahead and kicks as hard as he can. His breathing is ragged whenever he can break the surface. With a final lunge he reaches out and slaps his hand against the stone rim, milliseconds ahead of Alfred.

“I win!” he gasps as he rights himself and treads water. His arms feel weakened so he can’t hold onto the edge of the pool as tightly as he’d like to, but his face is flush with victory.

Alfred laughs as well and shakes the hair out of his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Arthur splashes him and huffs. “Positive.”

“Alright, alright. Rematch tomorrow, then.”

As if they’d have it any other way. Arthur shuffles closer to him in the water and presses a wet kiss to his cheek. “Catch your breath, love. You’ll need it to blow up that abomination of yours.”

“Give me like ten minutes.”

They both swim over to the little inlet in the side of the pool and climb out the steps there. Alfred flops onto one of the two deck chairs while Arthur dries himself off and – ever so slightly – wobbles to the kitchen. He returns five minutes later on steadier legs and with a glass of iced tea in each hand.

Half an hour later, Alfred’s out of breath again, but the two floats are settled in the water. “And now for relaxation,” he says as he hops into his. The burger upends him into the pool and he’s laughing as he comes back up for air.

Arthur can only shake his head and smile. He steps more delicately onto his pegacorn and manages to keep his torso out of the water- right up until Alfred creeps up beneath him and sends him flying into the water.

“Alfred!”

The American gleefully avoids Arthur’s splashes and clambers back into his burger. They both relax after that, drifting together with their hands intertwined. Every now and then Alfred shifts to dribble water either over his stomach or Arthur’s back. Each time he does that, he also leans over to press a kiss to Arthur’s cheek or neck or hair.

It’s past five by the time they eventually head back indoors, both of their stomachs rumbling in protest. Alfred’s tan has gotten a shade darker and while Arthur’s shoulders are pinked, he hasn’t burned. They shower together and sprawl on the couch as yesterday’s takeaway reheats.

“So what did you think?” Alfred asks. His fingers are once again buried in Arthur’s hair.

“Today was nice, despite the heat,” Arthur says casually. “I hope it rains tomorrow.”

Alfred pinches his side. “You know what I mean.”

“Oi-” Arthur jolts and bumps his head to Alfred’s chin. “I’ll admit it, it was…enjoyable to float on the pegacorn on the water instead of having to focus on keeping myself afloat. I had fun.”

“Really?” Alfred smiles brightly at him.

“Of course. Did you think I’d lie?”

“Well, Greyfriars is on the line…”

Arthur shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you over a tea room.”

“You’ve done it to me for less.” Alfred snorts.

“That was ages ago,” Arthur says dismissively. “Greyfriars, or town, or just the pool, as long as I can spend time with you, I’m happy.”

Alfred’s face softens. “I love you, Art.”

“I love you too.”

 

Alfred takes him for Afternoon Tea the following Friday anyway, just because.


	4. Bless You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bless you!” a voice calls out.
> 
> This time it’s Arthur who jolts at the sounds, and he falls over onto his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little scenario that popped into my head while I was calling my girlfriend~

Arthur loves the night. The air is still, like it has been during the day these past few hellish weeks, but blessedly cool instead. He has peace to think and space to walk and the cats are out, so what more could he need?

The stars glimmer overhead like so many eyes, his only witnesses. There’s the barest hint of light in the east. Arthur takes a deep breath and just stops on the corner, allowing himself to feel.

He hears a clatter from a few houses down and looks over in time to see a small figure slinking out of the shadow of some bins.

“Hey, lovely,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue softly as he strides over. When he reaches the curb he kneels, one hand outstretched.

The cat unfreezes in the middle of the road and pads towards him. It’s a white and grey ragged-looking thing, but friendly. It purrs as it rubs up against Arthur’s thigh and bumps its nose against his hand.

“You’re a gorgeous boy,” Arthur tells it. He can’t bring out his phone’s torch to check whether it’s actually a male cat, but he figures the cat doesn’t care so there’s no harm done.

He’s still scratching the cat’s back when he has to lean over and sneeze.

“Sorry,” he says when it jumps, but it doesn’t run away.

“Bless you!” a voice calls out.

This time it’s Arthur who jolts at the sound, and he falls over onto his ass. His hand clips the side of the cat’s rump and it yowls and swipes at him before darting away.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and has to wince as he runs a finger over the already puffy skin around his new scratches.

The door to the nearest house opens, spilling a shaft of light onto the street. “Dude, are you okay?!”

Arthur looks up to see someone rushing towards him. At first the other man’s features are cast too deeply in shadow to make out, but once he’s squatting by Arthur’s side, the Brit has a clearer view. Ruffled blond hair, big blue eyes wide with worry, thin glasses perched askew on his nose. Arthur curses again, silently this time.

“That was you?”

“Yeah, I mean I just paused my game and it happened and it was a loud sneeze.”

“It’s also the middle of the night.”

“I’m American,” the guy explains, as if that solves everything. “It’s kinda engrained in me to say it haha.”

“What the fuck,” is all Arthur can say.

“I mean you’re welcome?” the American tries.

“Right. Well…” Arthur shifts and moves to stand, though he pauses at the shocked gasp.

“Dude, you’re bleeding!”

“Yes. Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I’m going to go home now and take care of it.”

“You can come inside my place! It’s closer, right? You should get that disinfected asap.”

Arthur can’t help but to stare.

“…What?”

“Do you really expect me to walk into some stranger’s house in the middle of the night?”

“Oh. Right. Okay, so my name’s Alfred! And I’m in uni for programming and journalism and I promise I’m not a serial killer! There, now I’m not a stranger!” Alfred sticks out his hand. It wilts as Arthur keeps staring. “And I feel really bad cuz it’s my fault you’re hurt so please let me help?”

Arthur bites his bottom lip as he considers. “Alright,” he says eventually. “But be warned if you’re planning on trying anything, I do have a knife on me.”

Alfred’s eyes grow wider. “You do?!”

“You don’t expect me to walk around at night unarmed, do you? As safe as this neighbourhood is, I’d rather not take my chances with getting shanked.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s cool. We’ll just fix you up and you can go whenever you like. Promise.” Alfred unbends his knees and holds a hand out. “C’mon.”

Arthur takes it hesitantly and has to hold in a gasp as he’s yanked to his feet. “I’m Arthur. You’re strong.”

“Oh! Haha, thanks!” Alfred releases his hand and instead paws at the back of his neck. His face has gone decidedly sheepish as he hop-steps back towards his front door.

Arthur’s lips purse and he considers just legging it down the street home anyway. Had he really just said that aloud? But then Alfred’s calling him from the entryway and he trudges forward. Something warm and slick and sticky slides down his wrist. “Have you got kitchen roll or something?” he asks before he crosses the threshold. “I don’t want to drip on your floor.”

“Yeah, give me a second!” Alfred vanishes and reappears within a few seconds, thumping as he barrels to and from the kitchen. He returns with a tea towel, red with the classic white maple leaf embroidered into the corner.

“…This is very nice.” Arthur doesn’t take it.

Alfred waves it in front of his face. “Yeah! It’s my brother’s but he’s gone for a week with his boyfriend so he won’t mind!”

“As in too nice for me to bleed on.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Alfred grabs onto his arm and wraps the tea towel around the wound, ignoring Arthur’s flinching. “It’s red anyway and I’ll do the laundry before he gets back and if he does ask I’ll just tell him it was me!” He shoots Arthur a bright grin before tugging him into the house and shutting the door.

Arthur feels as though he’s being pulled around by an overeager bulldozer. With a sigh, he relaxes into it and allows Alfred to lead the way to the bathroom on the second level. There’s a bedroom downstairs, but it’s void of any signs of being lived in. Two of the four doors upstairs are shut. One of the open ones is the bathroom; the other contains the messiest room Arthur thinks he’s ever seen. Still, he can’t help but pick out a few pieces of expensive tech from the disaster before he’s facing the white tile of the bathroom wall.

“How’s your arm?”

“I think it’s fallen off,” Arthur can’t help but to mutter.

Alfred’s eyes widen for a moment, before he bursts out laughing. “Good one, Arthur, but it’s just a cat scratch!”

They both still as a door opens nearby. A tall, broad, blond-haired man pokes his head into the bathroom, squinting against the light. “What’s going on?”

Alfred’s smiling again. “Hey, Ludwig! Did I wake you? Sorry! The funniest thing just happened-”

“Not that funny,” Arthur says.

Ludwig holds out a hand. “I didn’t ask. I’m sure I’ll hear about it anyway when Matthew and Gil come home.” He squints again as his eyes zero in on the tea towel, but he just shakes his head. “Coffee?”

“Sure! I could use a pick-me-up. Arthur?” Alfred turns to him, eyes bright.

“Uh- I don’t drink coffee.”

“Tea, then?”

“I- I shouldn’t impose much longer.”

Ludwig shrugs. “It’s fine. Earl Grey alright?”

Arthur can’t help but to nod. He’d say this is an odd household, but his own isn’t exactly normal either, with their weekly cook-offs and drunken game nights and crafting sessions. “Thank you.”

“Be in the kitchen when you finish here.” With that, Ludwig shuffles down the stairs.

“Whoops.” Alfred snickers.

“Whoops?”

The American waves the word off. “It’s fine, not the first time I’ve woken the whole house up. We’ve all done it at some point. How’s your arm?”

“You asked that not five minutes ago.”

Alfred just grins some more and unwraps the tea towel, slowing down when he sees Arthur’s wince. “Still fallen off, I see.”

“Ha. Ha.” Arthur scrunches his nose as he looks at the scratches properly in the light. Three lines down the inner side of his wrist, deep for cat scratches and still welling with blood.

“Shit, they’re kind of deep.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Alfred bites his lip, a furrow between his brows as he rummages around beneath the sink. “I just meant they probably hurt a lot. Sorry for causin’em.”

Arthur frowns as well. He groans softly, leaning his head against the tile. They’re not friends; they’re still barely strangers. He’ll have to watch his tone. “It’s alright,” he says. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“Are you okay?”

And suddenly, wide blue eyes pin him in place again. Arthur has to hold back a smile. “I’m fine. I’ll let you know if I’m not.”

“Okay. It’s just…your posture and stuff.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur repeats, promises, almost.

“Okay.” Alfred finally pulls away from the sink cabinet, a small first-aid kit in hand. He opens the box, then quickly slams it shut, his cheeks pinking.

“Is everything alright?” One of Arthur’s eyebrows shoots up.

“Yeah. Um, warning though. Matt and Gil and I always get joke band-aids, soooo…”

This time Arthur is less successful and his lips curve upwards. He holds a hand out. “Let’s see the damage, then.” The other eyebrow is quick to join the first when he sees the selection of Frozen plasters. “Charming.” Still, he carefully picks through the pile before removing a few with the reindeer on them. “I think these will do fine.”

“I usually go for those too,” Alfred tells him, still sheepish as he replaces the kit. “Here, lemme help clean that.”

“I can do it myself,” Arthur says, but doesn’t stop him.

Alfred’s hands are large and warm as they cup his wrist, cradle it as carefully as a newborn. Not for the first time, Arthur’s struck by how handsome the man before him is, hunched over in concentration with the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. Arthur has to look away from the scene before his heart actually bursts out of his chest and flings itself at the American’s feet. It’s far too early to deal with feelings, or far too late; he isn’t sure. All he knows is that he hasn’t had remotely enough sleep to stop himself from looking even more like an idiot than he already must have.

“What’s your degree?” Alfred asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m doing literature, history, and linguistics.”

Alfred stops his ministrations to gape. “Three? You’re doing all three at once?”

Arthur’s cheeks heat up a bit at the attention. “I- Well, yes. It’s not that impressive, you’re doing a double degree.”

“Yeah, but yours is triple! I didn’t even know you could do that!”

“It’s a special case.” Arthur coughs. “The uni was hesitant to let me do it initially, but I had the grades to persuade them to give me the leeway to design my own course. It’s heavily mentored as well, I have to meet with my personal tutor at least once a month to have a chat about how I’m managing it.”

“That’s awesome!” Alfred’s entire face lights up. “Why’d ya choose to do it?”

Arthur has to look at the tiles again. He can hardly feel it when Alfred starts putting the plasters on; to have such bright, focused energy on him… He’s buzzing with adrenaline and exhausted at the same time. Not to mention that talking about himself had never been one of his strong points. “I’ve always been interested in the history and culture of England and the UK, how it developed and how the language and customs changed. It felt natural to combine the two. But what’s the use in looking at language and culture if you don’t look at the literature of the time? So literature was mixed up in it as well. I was considering tacking on medieval studies to it too, but I think the uni took one look at that plan and nearly had a heart attack.” He gives a small laugh and swallows as Alfred’s hand tightens on his. “I might do more medieval studies as a masters, though. I think that would be a good compromise.” He bites his lip as he finishes, and can’t help fidgeting in his seat as the silence stretches on between them. “…What?” he eventually has to ask.

Alfred jolts a bit, and then the dazzling smile is back. “You’re awesome, man! And I bet top of your class, too!” He laughs. “I think if we were on the same course I’d hate you a bit because of how good you are.”

“I…” Arthur blinks as the words stick in his throat. How is he supposed to reply to _that_? “You don’t know whether I’m good or not,” he eventually croaks out.

“Are you? Top of your class, I mean.”

There’s no judgement or hostility in Alfred’s eyes, so Arthur relaxes a bit. Takes a deep breath. “Top five for sure, I’d say.”

“I knew it!” Alfred pats his wrist before standing up again, stretching and popping his back. “Anyway, you’re good as new! I think tea and coffee have been ready for a while now, so let’s go down.”

Still feeling as though he was in a haze from Alfred’s exuberance, Arthur just nods and follows him downstairs. He’s able to take a better look around at the ground floor this time. The kitchen and living room are connected, and while they do look lived in, the space is much cleaner than Arthur’s house. He thinks Ludwig might have something to do with it as he watches the man wipe down the countertop around the cups of tea and coffee.

“I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier; I’m Arthur,” he says, cautiously stepping forward.

“Ludwig. The blue mug is yours.”

Arthur ducks around him and picks up the mug. He’s surprised to find milk already in it, and sugar when he takes a taste. “Thank you. How did you…?”

Ludwig shrugs and takes his own mug into the living room. “Most Brits take it the same way. Splash of milk, one or two sugars.”

“I suppose so. It’s nearly traditional at this rate.” Arthur follows him, with Alfred on his heels. Ludwig is sat on the two-seater couch so Arthur perches on an armchair instead, with Alfred taking the other chair. “I am sorry we woke you.”

“It’s fine.” Ludwig shrugs it off again. “I would have woken up with my alarm in about an hour anyway. This just means an earlier start to the day.”

Arthur can’t help but to gape a little. “You wake up at five each morning?” He glances over to Alfred, who has his nose buried in his coffee.

“It helps build character and routine.” Ludwig’s voice is completely serious.

Alfred snickers from his corner. “Plus if you didn’t call Feli to wake him up at eight, he’d never make his classes.”

One of Ludwig’s eyebrows shoots up. “You mean like you this past week?” His tone is quite casual, but it shuts Alfred up quickly.

Arthur lets out a snort. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“I’m a night owl!”

“So am I, hence the walks at night, but I can still manage to wake up in time.” Arthur’s heart rate spikes after that, but he relaxes again as Alfred whines at him and even Ludwig smiles a little bit. He still feels like he’s very much testing the waters, and a few times the conversation threatens to plunge into awkward silence, but somehow they manage to keep it going until they’ve all finished their drinks. It’s then that Ludwig excuses himself. “It was nice meeting you,” Arthur tells him.

“You too. See you later.”

“So where’s your knife?” Suddenly, Alfred’s right next to him.

Arthur blinks. “In my pocket.”

“Really? Boo, that’s such a predictable place! I thought it was somewhere cool like in your shoe or strapped to your thigh or something!”

“It’d be harder to get to it there, though.” Arthur can’t help shaking his head.

“Oh… I guess you’re right.” Alfred still looks put out by it.

“Would you like to see it?”Arthur offers.

“Your knife?” Alfred immediately brightens…and starts snickering.

“What?”

“Oh yeah, Arthur, I totally wanna see your knife,” Alfred says, waggling his eyebrows.

“…Right, well I’m leaving-” Arthur begins to stand, but stops as Alfred flings a hand out.

“No wait, c’mon, don’t go yet! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise no more!”

Arthur squints at him, but slowly sinks back into the chair.

“Sweet!” Alfred lets out a deep breath and settles down as well, though he can’t quite keep the smile off his face. “I’ll be totally mature, I promise.”

“Hmm.” Somehow, Arthur can’t keep the fondness off his own face, which he thinks is ridiculous. It’s far too early for _fondness_.

“So can I…see…your knife?” Alfred asks, his voice wavering.

“It’s just a simple switchblade,” Arthur says as he takes it from his pocket. Perhaps the best solution would be ignoring that particular train of thought.

“Can you use it well?” Sobering up at the sight of it, Alfred holds his hand out. He brings it up to his face once it’s in his grasp.

Arthur shrugs. “I can stab someone well enough. Francis and Toni are better at blades in general, rich bastards got to have fencing lessons and the like as children.”

“It’s still cool.” Alfred’s eyes are fixed on the weapon.

“Thanks.” Arthur has to stifle a yawn. “God, I’m starting to get tired.” He glances out the window. “At least the sky is pretty.” It’s a soft, pale pink, fading into deeper blues and purples.

“Oh! You should go home then!” Alfred’s up immediately, returning Arthur’s knife and grabbing the blue mug to take to the kitchen. “Go sleep and stuff.”

Arthur’s a little slow to stand, the tiredness having hit him like a truck. “I will. I’ll be out like a light, probably.” He gives a faint chuckle and stretches, missing how Alfred’s eyes linger on him. “You can go back to what you were doing too.”

“Eh, I was just playing a game with some online buddies. I’ll probably head to bed too.” Alfred follows him out to the front door.

They both shiver as the cool morning air hits them, and Arthur feels more awake again. He breaths out deeply, straining to catch sight of his breath in the air. He turns, about to bid Alfred goodbye, when he notices the way the American’s mouth clicks shut. “…Yeah?”

“Um. Haha, I was just…” Alfred rubs at the back of his neck again, and his cheeks look almost flushed in the light of the hallway. “Uh, wondering whether I could get your number? Cuz- Cuz you seem like a cool guy and all and I still feel bad for scarin’ you and stuff and we should get coffee sometime, well I guess you’d get tea, but like, just to make up for it and…stuff. Yeah.”

Well. Arthur’s brain is working enough to understand _that_. “Sure.” He rattles off the number, then has to do it again when Alfred’s too shocked to catch it the first time. Cute. “When would you like to meet?”

Alfred’s still fumbling with his phone. He looks up at that and bounces on the balls of his feet as he thinks. “Does Friday work for you? I have a three hour gap from eleven to two.”

“My class ends at twelve. Half-twelve, then? Campus bar?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a date, then.” Arthur savours Alfred’s little squeak and the way his cheeks grow even redder, then waves and walks away. “Bless me, indeed,” he mutters as he heads down the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's housemates are Francis, Antonio, and Kiku. For their 'crafting sessions', Arthur crochets, Francis paints, Antonio does ceramics, and Kiku works on calligraphy.
> 
> I like to imagine Francis' parents are rich enough to have bought him a house that he could have then converted one of the rooms into a comfortable workshop for all of them to be able to hang out and do their crafts/hobbies.


	5. House of Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short, a little bit different, and done entirely on a whim.

“I hate you! If you show your face around here again, I’ll kill you!” Alfred’s shout reverberates through the walls.

The look in his eyes is not one Arthur is used to. Electric. Wild. Dangerous. Intimately familiar. Arthur doesn’t flinch as the door is slammed in his face. He turns around. Walks down the front path, towards the street.

Christmas lights already wind around the streetlamps, despite it being early November. They glitter brightly in the evening. Almost enough to blind. There are still plenty of people making up the crowds near the centre of town. Arthur navigates them easily. He keeps his gaze straight ahead, hands shoved down his pockets. He forgot his scarf, so he nestles his chin into the collar of his coat as he slips between a windswept family of four and a couple admiring the jewellery shop’s displays.

After a few more minutes, he turns away from the bright street, down a darkened alley. If he listens closely, he can hear quiet footsteps behind him. The person is trying to match their stride to his, though they slip up whenever Arthur changes it up. When he hops over a puddle. When he hesitates as a bird flies out of the nearest tree. When he walks along the curb and loses his balance and has to step into the street. Their footsteps always line up within three steps, until the next time Arthur changes the tempo.

The alleyway leads to a park. There are less streetlamps here, and no Christmas lights. The church steeple spears the sky, pitch black against indigo. Halfway down the path, the park turns into a cemetery. Arthur stops at a bench right beside the first tombstones and sits down. The footsteps are gone.

He closes his eyes. In the distance, he can faintly hear the bustle of the street he left behind, but overall it’s quiet here. He likes it. It’s not often that he can just sit and be still. Goosebumps prickle up his arms and thighs. Even in his pockets, his fingertips start to hurt from the cold, but he doesn’t move.

At some point the sky brightens, and Arthur looks up to see the clouds have skirted to the side to reveal the moon. It’s nearly full, with just a sliver missing from the left side. More footsteps fill his ears, this time coming from the cemetery. Two women pass by him, their arms linked. They barely glance at him, but he watches them until they’re gone from sight.

After fifteen more minutes there, he stands. Stretches, feeling his back and knees and wrists pop. He shakes out his spine to loosen it and starts home. There are less people out now. A few of the shops have shut. The Christmas lights still twinkle merrily. Warmly. Arthur shoves his nose deeper into his coat collar.

He pauses only for a moment when he reaches the front path. Their house is small for the rest of the block, but not the smallest. Different, but it doesn’t stand out. So far there’s one row of Christmas lights along the lower gutters. It’s all Alfred had time to do. Within the next week, there will be more lights strung from the second story gutters and the bushes out front and the fence. Perhaps he’ll let Alfred buy a pair of LED deer this year.

The goosebumps crawl up his back. He approaches the door. Doesn’t knock. It’s unlocked, so he lets himself in. The warmth from inside rips through him, sets fire to his fingertips and he clenches them until his body has adjusted. He closes the door and kicks his shoes off.

There’s a drop of blood against the hardwood floor. Arthur smears it away with a socked heel and strides deeper into the house. Alfred is in the kitchen, at the sink, washing dishes from their dinner. Two plates, two glasses, two forks, three knives. A steaming cup of lemon tea sits on the breakfast bar. Arthur slides onto the stool nearest it and places his fingers against the ceramic. A shiver travels through his body as the goosebumps recede.

Alfred doesn’t speak until he’s placed the last of the knives onto the drying rack. “Is it cold out there?”

As if he doesn’t know himself. “Not too bad.” Arthur lifts the cup to his throat. It burns on the way down. He takes two more large sips before lowering it again. “That was quite the performance, love. I was scared.”

“Liar,” Alfred says softly, and walks over to kiss his hair.

There’s still a hardness to his eyes, one Arthur knows won’t go away until tomorrow. He smiles and reaches for Alfred’s hand. Still warm from washing up. He presses a few kisses of his own to Alfred’s skin. Alfred takes the mug from his hands and pulls Arthur to the couch. The living room is dark, but neither one of them bother to turn on the lights. Arthur eases Alfred out of his coat and once it’s gone, Alfred shoves his hands under Arthur’s shirt.

Both of their hands wander as they slowly lose their clothes. Wander over cloth. Wander over hair. Wander over skin. Wander over scars. Alfred’s hands are warm and big against Arthur’s side, but his touch is gentle. Reverent. Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. Alfred is always like this afterwards. It’s one of the few things he knows to be true.

Alfred called him a liar, but they both are. Alfred is a high school substitute teacher. Arthur is a librarian. Lies. The salaries of a substitute teacher and a librarian can buy a nice house in a nice neighbourhood in a small town in New England. Lies. Alfred grew up in a small town in Colorado, while Arthur lived in London before moving to the States when he was sixteen. Lies. They met at university. Lies. They’ve been together for eight years. Lies. They had a beautiful fall wedding two years ago. Lies. Alfred stayed at home while Arthur was out. Lies. Neither one of them has ever killed. Lies.

Arthur doesn’t know what Alfred really does. Alfred doesn’t know what Arthur really does. No, those are lies too. But at the same time, they aren’t. There are so many layers to their house of lies that Arthur sometimes has a hard time keeping things straight, but there are four truths he will never doubt.

One, Alfred loves him.

Two, he loves Alfred.

Three, Alfred will do anything it takes to keep him safe.

Four, he will do anything it takes to keep Alfred safe.

It’s better if he doesn’t think too hard about the rest.

Arthur tilts his head back and moans as Alfred’s mouth latches onto his neck. He doesn’t know why someone was after him earlier. He has his suspicions, but he never cares to follow them up. He doesn’t know where Alfred left the body for pick-up. He doesn’t know if this will be the last walk he takes this week. He doesn’t know if Alfred will have to take one while he does his own job. He doesn’t know when this will end. There are many things he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care that Alfred has to threaten him sometimes. He doesn’t care that they have to put on a show. He doesn’t care that Alfred has killed before. He doesn’t care that he has killed before. He doesn’t care that this house isn’t really theirs. He doesn’t care that the story they spin is just a story. He doesn’t care about the thousand and one lies that make up his life. One day it will end and it’s going to be a bitch sorting through lies and half-truths to figure out the rest of their lives, but he doesn’t care. He’s happy now.

As long as he can have moments like this, with Alfred between his legs, he’ll lie through his teeth and kill as much as anyone wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write a story in which the main characters' entire relationship was built on lies, and they knew it, but didn't care. I had a hard time coming up with a scenario to fit it and I'm still not sure if I've succeeded with the vision, but I really like this little piece!
> 
> I imagine that in this situation, Al & Art are undercover agents of some sort ;;w;;


	6. Purrfect Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! A friend asked me to help out with emergency helper fills for the 2018 USUK Network Secret Santa and I was more than happy to! This is just a little domestic AU from the prompt 'Getting/giving a pet for Christmas.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [midnightleone](https://midnightleone.tumblr.com/)!!

“How was he for you?” Arthur asked, reaching down to stroke the fat cat in his arms.

“He definitely lives up to his name. He’s such a ham,” Gilbert replied, snickering.

“Excuse you, his name is _Hamlet_.”

The German man waved a hand dismissively. “Hamlet, Ham, either works. He eats like a pig and wails like the world is ending if you’re even five minutes late feeding him.” He reached over and scratched behind Hamlet’s ears. “He’s cute though. Alfred’s gonna love him.”

The cat, a big Maine Coon, stretched out into both of their touches. He was a beautiful cream colour with rich brown accents around his feet, neck, face, and the tip of his tail. His purring rumbled throughout his whole body, and his blue eyes were half-closed in contentment. He was big enough that he spilled out over Arthur’s lap and onto the couch, and if he stretched up on his back paws, he had enough height to reach onto the kitchen countertops if he so chose.

“Thank you for agreeing to look after him for these few days. A year ago I might have been able to keep him hidden myself, but since we moved in together, there was no hope.” Arthur smiled down when Hamlet turned his face into his hand, licking at his fingertips.

Gilbert smirked then.

“What?”

“No, nothing. It’s been, uh, fun. Yeah. Might get a cat too or something after this.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but Gilbert refused to say anything else. After draining his teacup, he scooped the big cat up and into the cat carrier at his feet and, after a final farewell to Gilbert, headed home with his present.

The evening was cold and brisk, the stars glittering overhead from a clear sky. Arthur’s breath puffed out in front of him as he strode down the sidewalk, and he burrowed his nose into his scarf and coat collar. He only hoped that this evening would go well; he didn’t want to keep Hamlet stuck inside of a box for too long, so timing would be everything. Alfred’s oblivious tendencies would work in his favour, for once.

Despite it being around seven on Christmas Eve, there was still a good amount of people in the streets, and Arthur often had to sidestep around someone or pause to keep the cat crate from bumping into someone’s body or bags. The walk from Gilbert’s apartment building to his and Alfred’s was only ten minutes, but crossed a few busier intersections.

“Just a little longer, boy,” Arthur murmured as he waited at one of the crosswalks. He tilted the cat carrier to be able to peer into it, and was met by Hamlet’s inquisitive stare. The cat didn’t seem stressed at all, just interested in his surroundings.

Arthur smiled to himself. He and Alfred had been talking about adopting a cat for a few months now, but their planning hadn’t gotten much farther than agreeing they both wanted one from a shelter and at some point in the future. Though he would have liked to go with Alfred to pick one out, Arthur also figured that giving Alfred a cat as one of his Christmas presents would also be really romantic. They could always go together in the future if they ever wanted another cat.

The light changed and Arthur stepped out quickly to avoid being jostled. Five minutes later, he sighed as he moved out of the cold into his lobby. His fingers and toes had regained feeling by the time the elevator stopped at his floor, and his heart rate sped up a bit as he approached the door.

He set the carrier down when he unlocked it and swung it open a crack. “Alfred?” he called.

The lights were off in the apartment.

There was no answer.

Arthur let out a quiet breath and smiled down at Hamlet again. “Good thing his work friends celebrate Christmas Eve and invited him over, huh?” he asked as he carried the cat inside and locked the door behind him. Bless Toris and Feliks, honestly.

He didn’t bother taking his shoes or coat off yet and took Hamlet into the guest bedroom. The closet there was small but stuffed full of mostly Arthur’s things, so Alfred wasn’t likely to go looking in there. He’d set up a litter box on the floor earlier, as well as putting down a cat bed, a bowl of water, and two toys.

“You’ll have to stay here for a little while, until after we eat dinner,” he told Hamlet as he picked the cat up out of the carrier and into his arms.

Hamlet _mrrowed_ and butted his nose against Arthur’s chin before looking around the room.

Arthur smiled as he kissed the top of the cat’s head. “You can look around properly later, hmm? Once Alfred’s seen you. I’ll get you some food and you just need to be a little patient, darling.”

He placed the cat down into the closet and turned the light on. Hamlet immediately started batting at one of the mouse toys and sniffing around it and the bed. The Brit smiled as he shut the door, leaving the light on inside so Hamlet would be able to see while he waited.

A quick trip to the kitchen later and Arthur was back with a bowl of mixed wet and dry food that he’d hidden at the back of the cleaning supplies cupboard for the past few days. He stayed long enough to make sure that Hamlet had started to eat, then closed the door again and started on the rest of the preparations.

The prepared present box for Hamlet was stuffed under their bed. It was a pre-wrapped box with a top that could easily be removed and air holes already punched into it. The wrapping paper on the outside was busy enough that the holes were unnoticeable. Arthur had another cat bed on the bottom of the box, as well as another toy to keep Hamlet entertained for the hopefully short duration he’d be inside of it. He carried it to the guest bedroom for later on, then started on preparing a light dinner for the two of them.

There would be a proper turkey tomorrow at Alfred’s parents’ house, so for the evening the Brit settled on a simpler pan-seared steak and mash with roasted Brussels sprouts. He’d been practicing with Francis’s help, and at their latest cooking session, his French friend had been impressed at the results. Alfred could down anything remotely edible, he knew, but he still hoped his fiancé would enjoy it.

He had just finished plating everything when he heard the lock click and the front door open again.

“I’m home!” Alfred called, sounding a little bit hoarse.

Alarmed, Arthur poked his head out of the doorway to see Alfred somewhat struggling with a large wrapped box in his arms. “Oh dear, do you need help?” he asked, stepping forward.

“No!” Alfred yelped, his arms tightening around the box a little bit as he nudged the door closed with his foot. “Could you lock the door though?”

“Sure.”

Alfred edged around him and hurried into the living room to put the box under their small tree. By then Arthur had locked the door and turned around, only to be swept up into strong arms.

He laughed as Alfred spun him around. The laughter quickly turned into a squeal when Alfred pressed his still-cold cheek against his own, but he kissed his fiancé anyway. “How was the party?”

“Pretty chill. Tor and Fel opted for a smaller gathering this year, so it was only their closest friends. They were pretty bummed you couldn’t make it- Fel still insists you’re some sort of cryptid, but I promised to try and get you out next year.”

Arthur snorted. “We could have lunch with them sometime before then, too.”

“Yeah?” Alfred grinned brightly and kissed him again. “I’ll call Toris in a few days or something.”

“Sounds a plan. Now come on, food’s just ready.” Arthur tangled their fingers together as he tugged him off to the kitchen.

“And presents after?” Alfred followed him eagerly, sniffing at the air with appreciation. “Smells good, Art.”

“ _One_ present each today, like we agreed.” Though he shivered when he felt Alfred’s lips on the back of his neck, Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t turn around to see the puppy eyes that were surely on display. “The rest tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay,” Alfred said with a defeated chuckle and nuzzled to him for a moment before looking over the plates. “Holy shit, you made all this yourself? It looks restaurant quality, babe.”

Arthur flushed happily at the praise. “Thank you, love. I hope it tastes okay as well.”

“I’m sure it will. You’re getting real good at cooking now. No more breaking the oven like freshman year of uni, huh?”

“I’ll have you know that was an _accident_.”

“Still on that train, huh?” Alfred teased as he moved the plates to the eating nook.

“Of course.” Arthur sniffed haughtily, but smiled as he slid in across from Alfred. He set a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses onto the table as well.

Dinner passed with Alfred telling stories from Christmas Eve at Toris and Feliks’s, as well as a drawn-out game of footsie under the table. Even after their plates were empty they sat at the table, nursing their glasses and laughing together.

Eventually, Arthur jolted. He reached out across the table and tapped Alfred’s hand, drawing the other man’s attention. “I think you’ve been patient enough. Present time?” He also didn’t want Hamlet to be alone in the closet for too long.

Alfred beamed at him. “Hell yeah!”

“Alright. I’ll go get yours real quick?”

“Oooh, mysterious.”

“Very,” Arthur said with a snort.

“I’ll clean up while you do, then! Wait for me in the living room when you’re ready?”

“Alright.” After a quick kiss, Arthur slid out of his seat and hurried down the hall to the guest room.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about Hamlet. The big cat was sprawled out over the pet bed, asleep with the toy mouse between his outstretched paws. He opened his eyes when the closet door opened and purred at the sight of Arthur crouching over him.

“Hello, big boy,” Arthur whispered, happy to stroke behind Hamlet’s ears. “Your big moment is coming soon. If you’re good, I’ll sneak you a few extra treats before bed tonight.”

Hamlet’s purring only increased in volume.

“Alright, come on, up you come.” Arthur grunted a little bit as he lifted the Maine Coon up and into his arms.

It was a slight struggle to manoeuvre the box from under the bed with roughly twenty pounds of limp cat in his arms, but after a few minutes Arthur managed to shove Hamlet inside. Ruffled but unbothered, Hamlet peered up at him with wide blue eyes before the Brit secured the top into place.

“You’ll be in there for just a few minutes, I promise,” Arthur told him.

Alfred was still washing up when Arthur made it into the living room, so Arthur settled on the couch with Hamlet’s box in his lap instead of under the tree while he waited. The American walked into the living room a few minutes later, lighting up at the sight of the big box.

“Oh man. So we’re both getting pretty sweet presents, huh?”

A self-satisfied smile stretched over Arthur’s lips. “Oh, definitely.” He knew Alfred would absolutely love the Maine Coon. “Would you like yours first since I’ve got it here already?”

“Sure.”Alfred was practically vibrating with excitement as he took a seat next to Arthur.

“Don’t shake it around, though. It’s delicate,” Arthur said as he handed the box over. His heart took off at a gallop as he watched Alfred examine it.

“Huh.” Alfred hefted it up a few times. “It’s lighter than it looks,” he mused, then froze when he heard a noise from inside. “Is that?” He whipped the lid off.

Hamlet meowed again and poked his head up, his front paws supporting his body against the edge of the box. He was still a bit ruffled as he looked around, and he started purring as his eyes landed on first Arthur, then Alfred right in front of him.

“Oh my God.” Alfred held out a hand for the cat to sniff, and he smiled when he felt the rough tongue against his fingers. “Oh my God. Oh my God, _Arthur_.” He suddenly whipped his head around to stare at Arthur.

“Wh-What?” Arthur bit his lip. “Do you like him?”

And Alfred burst out laughing.

Arthur stared at him in confusion. “What…?”

“No- No oh my God, Arthur, hang on.” Setting the box with Hamlet in it aside, Alfred rushed across the room to pick up the present he’d gotten for Arthur. He pushed it into Arthur’s hands, still chuckling. “Just open it.”

Arthur’s brows were still furrowed as he hesitantly lifted the top of that box off, and he nearly dropped it when he saw what was inside.

A small white and cream cat with green eyes and folded down ears stared up at him.

Unlike Hamlet, this cat was curled up on the bottom of its box, evidently more nervous than the other feline still peering around.

“Oh my God,” Arthur whispered.

Alfred laughed again, and this time, Arthur joined in. They fell against each other helplessly, because _of course_ they would both get each other a cat for Christmas.

The cat in Arthur’s lap let out a mewl when its box was jostled, and Hamlet’s ears immediately pricked up. He jumped out of his box and peered into the other one, purring happily and forcing his way inside to curl up around and practically on top of the smaller cat.

“I guess…they’re friends?” Alfred managed to say, wiping a few tears from the corners of his eyes.

“I suppose so,” Arthur murmured, and smiled as he pressed a few kisses to Alfred’s cheek. “You silly thing.”

“Hey, you’re just as silly!”

“This just means we’re perfect for each other, hmm?”

“Aww! Arthur, that’s so sappy! I fucking love you, babe,” Alfred said as he wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

“I love you too, Al,” Arthur whispered back. After a moment, while Alfred was still cooing and laughing over the cats, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of them in the one box. He sent it to Gilbert.

**Arthur: Alfred got me a cat too? (9:48)**

It was only a few seconds before Gilbert replied.

**Gilbert: i know (9:48)**

**Gilbert: [IMG attached]**

A selfie of Gilbert on his couch, with Hamlet and the small cat curled up together on his lap.

**Gilbert: you’re both fucking nerds (9:49)**

**Gilbert: merry Christmas (9:49)**

“What’s so funny?” Alfred asked, looking over when he felt Arthur laughing against him.

Arthur showed him the phone screen.

“What? You asked Gilbert to hold onto yours too?” They dissolved into laughter again. “I guess that explains why they get along so well…”

“Indeed. The big boy is Hamlet, by the way.”

Alfred lifted him from the box, grunting from the effort. “No kidding. He’s such a ham.”

“He was named after Shakespeare, you dolt,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, and Ham can be his nickname. Shakespeare reference for you, food reference for me.” Alfred grinned as he swung the cat above his head. Hamlet looked completely unbothered. “Who’s a hammy boy? Who’s a good hammy boy?” he cooed.

“Both of you.”

“Arthur!” Alfred lowered Hamlet to face level and turned him around so both he and Alfred stared at Arthur with near-identical blue eyes. “You wound us!”

“I’m sure you’ll both get over it,” Arthur said sweetly. “What’s this one’s name?” he asked, reaching in to offer his hand to the other cat. It had curled down in the box again now that it was alone. Arthur pulled it out to set it onto his lap instead, and set the box on the floor.

“He’s called Dover. No real reason for it, that’s the name he came with at the shelter. I didn’t see the need to change it.” Alfred let Hamlet down completely so the bigger cat could nuzzle to Dover’s face.

“Dover…” Arthur smiled as he lightly ran a hand down Dover’s back. “I like it. Hamlet and Dover. Thank you, Alfred. This has already turned into a perfect holiday.”

“I think you mean _purrfect_.”

“You nerd.”

“In all seriousness though, thank you too.” Alfred leaned over to wrap Arthur into as much of a side hug as he was able to. “We are both silly, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, Arthur. Merry Christmas.”

Arthur gripped him back tightly. “I love you too, my dearest,” he whispered into Alfred’s shoulder.

They lost track of time simply curled up on the couch together, the two cats purring away on their laps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments super appreciated ; ))


	7. Just For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England. 76 Chambers Street. 6:30. The door will say ‘closed for renovation’ but it’s open. Meet me inside? A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [DiurnalDays](https://diurnaldays.tumblr.com/)! They said they like nations and marriage. ^-^

_England_

An innocent note lay on his briefcase when he came back from lunch. Rather than handwritten, the word seemed to have been typed on a typewriter. England took the paper into his hands carefully and could make out a similarly typed message inside. In the interest of safety, he examined the paper first to make sure there was no residue or anything off about it before opening it up.

_76 Chambers Street. 6:30. The door will say ‘closed for renovation’ but it’s open. Meet me inside?_

_A_

The other nations had slowly filed in while he was reading, and England looked up to catch America’s eye.

His boyfriend winked.

England sighed and tilted his head down to hide a small smile. That man. Always trying to be dramatic or mysterious, as if his entire existence was part of some movie. But England’s curiosity had been sufficiently piqued.

The note was tucked away into his briefcase for the rest of the day’s meetings, but England kept thinking about it. It wasn’t his first time in the city so he relatively knew where Chambers Street was, but his mind couldn’t conjure up any specific buildings of interest.

He made eye contact with America a few more times, but other than a bright smile or another wink, the bubbly nation didn’t give any indication that something was going on.

When he tried to grab America’s arm at the end of the work day, America just sidestepped him and laughed as he ran down the hall.

“You-!” But England just allowed his arm to fall back to his side.

“He’s being weird again?” Canada asked, stopping next to him and watching America tripping out of the building along with England.

“He has something planned.”

Canada nodded solemnly. “In case this is it for you, thanks for everything.”

England just snorted. “You’re very welcome.”

“By the way, Alfred keeps stealing cat treats from your house for Hero.”

“Bastard,” England murmured fondly. “In any case, see you tomorrow.”

“Or not,” Canada said with a cheeky grin.

“Or not.” England’s lips quirked up. He nodded to the other man and started down the hall.

He still had over two hours before he had to be at the agreed spot, so he stopped at a nearby restaurant for a quick meal before heading back to his hotel for a shower and a change of clothes. Since he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, he settled for dark skinny jeans, a deep forest green dress shirt, and a steel grey vest along with his work shoes.

76 Chambers Street turned out to be a tiny stone chapel, squeezed in between two more modern buildings that absolutely dwarfed it. As promised, there was a sign on the door that proclaimed the building closed for renovations, but it opened easily under England’s hand.

The lights were off, but the interior was lit up with hundreds of small candles. It gave the place an even older air, a hush that draped itself over England’s shoulders and lungs like a veil.

A solitary figure sat in the first row of pews on the left side, golden hair glinting faintly in the light.

“This had better not be a recreation of a horror movie,” England murmured as he started down the aisle.

“It’s not,” America replied softly. Solemnly. He stood up and turned to face England, a small smile on his lips. He wore dark grey fitted slacks and a black sweater over a navy dress shirt. “Hey, we kind of match.”

“Do we?” England examined the two of them as he came to a halt beside him.

“Yeah. Grey and black and you’re in your green and I’ve got my blue.”

“I suppose so. Why are we here?”

America kissed him instead of replying right away. Broad hands cupped England’s face, cradled it and turned it just so.

“This is one of my favourite places,” America said when he pulled away. His hands dropped to England’s neck, then shoulders, then finally to his own sides. He half-turned away, looking around. “I come here a lot. No one else really does, so a lot of the time I have it to myself. I’ve slept here a few times, but usually I just talk for a while.”

“I didn’t take you for being so religious anymore.”

“I’m not. I don’t talk to anyone in particular, but there’s just something…something here that makes it easy to.” He laughed. “Or maybe not. I don’t know, but I just tend to come here when I need to.” He took in a deep breath and released it slowly.

England noticed for the first time the slightest of trembles in his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just…a little nervous, I guess.”

“Why are you nervous?” England’s eyebrows knitted together and he reached for one of America’s hands. “Alfred, what’s wrong?”

America slipped the hand free and put both of them in his pockets. “I’m thinking you’re gonna think this is silly. Or stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“Alfred, when have I ever actually, genuinely thought your thoughts were stupid? And wars don’t count. I’m not going to just dismiss whatever you have to say. We know that doesn’t work.”

“I know.”

This time, England stepped forward so they were toe to toe and tilted America’s head down for a brief kiss. “Now tell me what’s up,” he said when he moved back.

America nodded. He withdrew something from his pocket; a small black box, and knelt onto one knee. “Arthur,” he said softly. “Will you marry me?”

The breath rushed out of England’s lungs. He had been proposed to many times over the centuries, but never did his heart beat so wildly as when America did it. His lips curved up in a sad smile and he closed his eyes as he shook his head. How many times had they been through this? “I can’t. You know I can’t-”

“I know.” America was smiling too as he climbed to his feet again. “But would you? If you could?”

“In a heartbeat, my dear.”

“Then would you- Would you accept this ring anyway?”

England’s eyes flew open. This was a deviation from their script. “What?”

“Like.” America shrugged and opened the box to reveal two gold bands inside. “It won’t mean anything to the rest of the world. But it can be just for us? Just so we- Just so we know if we could…” He looked down. “We’re not human and things get so weird and hurt _so much_ so much of the time, but my love for you will never change, England. And I don’t doubt that you love me, of course I don’t, but I’m just thinking it might be nice to just…have a more physical reminder.”

England swallowed. He didn’t trust himself to speak quite yet, so he simply stepped forward and nodded.

“Really?” America’s face lit up.

“I don’t think that’s silly at all,” England whispered thickly.

“Can I- Can I put it on you?”

“Well surely you don’t expect me to put it on myself.”

America let out a laugh at that and slipped the smaller of the rings from the box’s velvet lining. He took hold of England’s proffered hand and lifted it to his lips before sliding the ring onto the ring finger. It was a perfect fit.

England’s breath caught in his throat again as he watched the band glittering in the soft candlelight, and he held it up closer to his face. Just a simple gold ring, so unassuming, but _America_ had given it to him and so it meant the world.

“Let me put yours on too?” he asked after a moment, drawing his gaze back to America and the ring that still sat in the box.

America smiled so brightly he could have powered a city. “Please do.”

England plucked the ring out and slid it into place with little fanfare, but once the band was on America’s finger, he brought it to his cheek. His eyes closed as he leaned into that roughened palm, and he smiled as he kissed along it until he reached the ring. The metal was cool against his lips.

“I have.” America stopped and wet his lips, then tried again. “I have matching chains back at my house. So you can wear it around your neck if you can’t have it on your hand.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” England asked, the smile on his face growing as he glanced up at the other man from under his lashes.

“I was determined to marry you some way or another this time,” America said with a sheepish grin.

England laughed. “Your persistence is endearing this time.”

“This time!” America squawked, but he was still grinning.

“This time,” England agreed. He looked around again, at the chapel and the candles and the rings on their fingers. His chest swelled, and he abruptly pulled America into a hug.

“England?” America asked, wrapping his arms around England’s waist in return.

“You’re…incredulous. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The taller nation dropped a kiss into England’s hair.

They stood there for a moment, England’s head resting on America’s shoulder. Then, England glanced up at him again. “Since this is some sort of an engagement and renegade wedding all rolled into one, should we have a first dance?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Alfred, you’re in a _sacred place_!” England admonished, but he hid a snicker into America’s sweater.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Hang on.” Trying not to jostle England around too much, America fished his phone out of his pocket and searched up a song on YouTube. He soon set it down on the pews and pulled England into a more proper dancing position as Peter Gabriel’s version of ‘The Book of Love’ started playing from the speakers. “I always think of us when I hear this,” he whispered.

England’s eyes softened, then dampened as they swayed. “So do I.”

Even though the music was playing out of a phone, the chapel’s acoustics did a good job of bouncing the sound all throughout the space. America squeezed his hand and leaned his head against England’s. He led England in a slow dance up and then back down the aisle, twirling dipping him in front of the altar and singing quietly into his ear.

England joined him for the last verse.

“ _And I, I love it when you give me things._

_And you, you ought to give me wedding rings._

_You ought to give me wedding rings…_ ”

He buried his head into America’s shoulder once more as the music faded away, his fingers gripping onto his lover’s – his _husband’s_ – sweater tightly.

“Are you crying?” America asked softly.

“No,” came the wobbly reply.

“Okay.” America hid a smile in England’s hair and pressed a few more kisses into the silky strands. He was content to stand there and just hold England until the older nation had composed himself again. He also tactfully ignored the damp spot on his shoulder, and refrained from commenting on England’s red cheeks.

“Well,” England said, sniffing rather harshly. “I do believe that was the shortest wedding I’ve ever attended.”

“The best though, right?”

“Yes. The very best.”

America suddenly grinned. “Should we move onto the wedding night?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

England swatted his arm. “Sod. At least dine me first.”

“You’re in luck; I made us dinner reservations for eight just a few blocks away. You’ll love the place.”

“We still have some time before then,” England said, glancing down at his watch. “What shall we do until then?”

America reached for his phone. “Dance?”

England smiled and nodded, reaching for it. “Let me pick a song.”

Music filled the air again as they danced and twirled, the golden bands shimmering on their fingers, the candlelight their only witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Gabriel's [The Book of Love](www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmnDXRJ7btE) is SUCH a good USUK song ;;w;;
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!!
> 
> Comments v much appreciated~


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